First Church of Our Lady
by Doom Squirrel
Summary: Rebuilding is a long, slow, and arduous task. Even for a recently deified Goddess and her reluctant prophet, Cloud Strife. Post Advent Children, multiple pairings. Slight spoilers for AC: Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_So the Hero traveled to the church in the ruined city, but found not solace, for the Goddess's followers filled the church._

_And the Hero said "You are cured of the geostigma. Leave this place. Forget its existence."_

_But the people protested, "We must not forget anything again. You must tell us Her story."_

_Still, the Hero said, "Leave."_

~From the book of Midgar, Chapter 3, verses 4-7.

Cloud slept for a week after the battle with Sephiroth. It had taken more out of him than he realized, until Tifa finally dragged him back for some rest. He collapsed onto the bed without even taking off his shoes and woke up twenty hours later. He stayed awake only long enough for a quick meal and to change out of his grimy, battle-stained clothes before falling back into a blissful dreamless sleep. The pattern repeated a few times before he finally woke up properly. He showered and dressed and changed his sheets, and then sat down on the bed to think.

His head was clear and he felt better than he had since… when? Since he'd gotten geostigma? Since he'd found Denzel and devoted himself to finding a cure? Since they'd defeated Sephiroth the first time? Whichever possibility it was, it had been a very long time.

_Is this your doing, too, Aerith?_ He asked silently. He didn't get an answer – she only spoke to him when she had something to say.

"_Everything's alright now."_

That was what she had said. He shook his head. No. Things were better. He was better. But he wasn't alright. He was probably still far from sane, not that it was easy to judge for himself. There was too much in his past for him to let go of easily. Or maybe even ever.

"You're awake!"

Denzel was standing in the doorway, with a wide grin on his face and holding a plate of sandwiches. Tifa had probably sent him up to prod Cloud awake and eat something. He hurried over to him and left the sandwiches on the bedside table, hugging him tightly.

"We were getting really worried," he said.

Cloud ruffled Denzel's hair, partly from affection and partly to look at the place where his geostigma had been. There wasn't even a hint of the rot left on his brow. That was a relief. When Aerith fixed something, it stayed fixed.

"How are you feeling?" Cloud asked.

"Great! Even better now that you're awake," Denzel grinned at him, "Come on downstairs, we just came back with dinner and you don't have to have peanut butter sandwiches if you aren't going to fall asleep in the soup."

Cloud smiled faintly and let Denzel lead him to the door. He was a little surprised by Denzel's sudden energy, but it made sense when he considered how drained the geostigma had left him. Denzel was just a kid dealing with that. It was a wonder he'd dragged himself out of bed most mornings.

Denzel bounded down the stairs, for the first time as carefree as a ten year old boy should be. Cloud followed more sedately. He did feel… well, not exactly _happy_, but content. It was a peaceful sort of feeling, although not as much as those few moments in the lifestream before Aerith had sent him back.

_Why did you send me back?_

The back room of the bar had been made into a living room and dining room in one. Tifa was at the table, along with Barret and Marlene. Marlene was very happily drawing with what looked like a new box of colored pencils – must've been a gift from Barret.

"Cloud!" Tifa greeted him happily, "It's good to see you up, how are you feeling?"

Cloud considered this for a while, "Like I could sleep for another week."

"Well, don't do that, Spiky," Barret said, "I've been pulling your weight for the last week."

"What pulling?" Tifa teased, "All you've done is spoil your daughter for a week."

"Like you don't?" Barret smiled, and softly patted Marlene's head. She looked up from her drawing and smiled.

"Hi, Cloud!"

"Hey, Marlene."

"Nanaki's still here, he's out for a walk, but Uncle Vincent and Uncle Cid left four days ago, and Tifa kicked Yuffie out for being too loud when you needed your rest. And Cait Sith is in my room. Reeve said I could keep him for a while."

Cloud raised an eyebrow at Tifa, who didn't blush. "I kicked her out around the six-hour mark, before I discovered that you could sleep through a bomb exploding." She shrugged. "Yuffie's still in town. She's staying with Reno, of all people."

_Should I skip to the inevitable conclusion and flee town now?_ asked the little bit of him that was Zack.

"Hey, Cloud?" Denzel tugged on his sleeve and Cloud looked down at him, "Do you think you could take me for a ride on your motorcycle sometime?"

Once, a long time ago, he'd been able to grin like Denzel, but after so many losses a smile felt like a betrayal. He worried sometimes that Denzel thought Cloud didn't like him, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"We'll have to get you a helmet," he said after a while.

Denzel beamed, "You don't use one, though."

"The only thing that could smash my head in is Tifa, and only if she were _really_ mad at me."

Barret choked rather violently. He coughed for a bit and then gasped, "Gaia, Cloud! Warn a guy before you tell a joke! You trying to kill me?"

Cloud didn't respond. He headed for the door.

"Don't you want dinner?" Tifa asked.

"I'm going to go for a drive," Cloud said, "I won't be too long."

Tifa looked at him for a bit, but nodded.

Cloud was a little bit hungry, but the rumble of Fenrir underneath him and the wind in his face was worth waiting for a while to eat. He couldn't remember having dreamt the entire time he'd slept, but he must have done so. When he woke up, he knew there were a number of things that he had to do, even though he'd never been told them.

He supposed most people would be upset about people poking around in their head, but it was a bit of a relief. Aerith's last words in the church had felt like a goodbye, and he wasn't ready for goodbyes yet.

He was nearly on top of Zack's grave marker before he saw the strange new additions. Yellow flowers were growing on the ground. They weren't the delicate cups that grew in Aerith's church, but a hardier kind that Cloud didn't recognize.

He bent down and nearly plucked one before he decided not to. If flowers were growing on Zack's grave, they were meant to be there. He smiled – a tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Aerith again. She must have been very busy this last week.

He straightened up and gave the Buster Sword a long look. Leaving it there as Zack's grave marker had seemed the right choice at the time, but now he was wondering about it. Zack had always taken such good care of his sword…

_I shouldn't have let it get rusted._ Cloud pulled the sword out of the dirt and frowned at it. Well, it wasn't ruined yet. It would come clean with some elbow grease and time.

Besides, there were flowers to mark the grave now.

* * *

He reached the church in good time. Though it was further from the grave than 7th Heaven, he felt like he needed someplace quiet to sit while he cleaned the sword. And maybe… well, he'd seen Aerith here before. Zack had been with her. Even if she hadn't let him stay in the lifestream, if he just had a place where he could talk to them…

He held the Buster Sword, hesitating outside the door. He missed them both so much. There was a large part of him that was afraid to open the door and discover that whatever magic had made him see them was gone. If they weren't there…

He wondered for a moment if Aerith would send him back again if he committed suicide, or if she would accept that he really did mean to stay. He shook his head. Either way, if he were to do that, she would be sad.

He pushed the door open and blinked in surprise. Had someone fixed the door? Before, he'd always had to push in a certain spot or the door would get stuck on the old, uneven floor. He and his friends had always kind of talked about repairing the old church, had someone finally started the job?

There were people in the church. A small crowd was kneeling by the water, heads bent in what could only be prayer. Cloud paused, not sure what to think. On one hand he couldn't fault people for praying where they chose to, but on the other hand he didn't like the idea of having to share this place with anyone else. It had been his haven for the past two years, silent and filled with memories of people he loved.

Maybe he would just come back later… he wanted to be alone when he was here. He turned to go.

"It's him!" he heard someone say.

He turned back. The one who had spoken was a little boy, younger even than Marlene. He had a smear of geostigma on his cheek and Cloud instantly forgot about leaving.

The boy came up to him, "You know how to make us better, right? We came all the way from Junon!"

Of course there would still be people with the stigma. Not everyone would've been outside and some people would've had to come from much farther away.

An older woman, with hair that was going gray and a face lined with stress also approached him. He saw no sign of the stigma on her face or bare arms, but she was holding an infant who must have been close to death, judging by how thickly coated it was in the sores.

"You can cure my daughter?" she asked in a tone that bade ill if he said no.

"You don't need me to do it," Cloud said, "It's the water." Someone had obviously told them the place, but it was ridiculous that they were sitting here praying when the cure was all of fifteen feet away.

He gestured for the woman to follow him and walked to the pool. Despite how many people had jumped in the water on that day, it was still impossibly clean and clear. He knelt down by the edge of the water and reached out for the baby. The woman handed her to him with only a little bit of hesitation and Cloud was pleased that his hands didn't shake when he held her. He _hated_ holding babies. They were so tiny and delicate, and he was always certain that he would break them with his inhuman strength.

Nonetheless, he cradled the child in one arm and scooped up some of the water in his free hand. He dropped it on the baby's head and breathed a sigh of relief when the sores disappeared in a faint glow of green. The baby took a deep breath and began to shriek her displeasure about the cold water.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" the mother said, taking back her child and falling to her knees. She held the wailing baby close, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at Cloud. "I knew you could do it! You really are Her servant."

"You didn't need me to do it," Cloud said, shaking his head, "All you needed was the water."

"They all said that _you_ healed all the children in Midgar," the woman said, "We didn't know where to find you, so we prayed for Her to send you to us."

"Her?" Cloud echoed, with a sinking feeling that he knew who they were referring to.

"The Lady in the Lifestream!" the little boy said, "The one who sent the rain! Me next!"

Cloud pointed at the water, "You can heal yourself. You didn't need to wait for me."

The little boy looked at the water, and then looked back at Cloud, biting his lip. "I can't swim."

Cloud sighed. He looked at the rest of the people. None of the adults seemed the slightest bit inclined to help. They were all watching him intently to see what he would do. Apparently they believed that if he didn't do it, it wouldn't work.

He took off his boots and set them by the pool, then stepped into the water. He turned back to the little boy and reached out to him, "Come here. I won't drop you."

The little boy nodded, and Cloud lifted him down until he was neck deep. He really was a tiny child, his feet still didn't touch the ground.

"Hold your breath," he ordered. The boy took a deep breath and covered his nose, and Cloud carefully lowered him all the way under the water. He came back up blinking water out of his eyes, and gingerly touching the places on his face where the sores had been. He broke into a huge grin when Cloud deposited him back on the edge of the pool.

"Grandpa, I'm all better!" he said happily as an old man hugged him.

Cloud somehow managed to keep from sighing again. "Anyone else?"

Five more people, all adults, carefully stepped into the water. At least he didn't have to hold their hands for that part, but somehow not a one of them had the sense to duck his or her head under the water until Cloud prompted them to do so.

When the last man was finally getting out of the water, Cloud breathed a sigh of relief. He climbed out of the pool himself. He was sopping from the chest down, but he would dry, and at least these people were fixed up.

With a nod, he went to retrieve the Buster Sword from where he left it by the door. He paid no attention to the people milling around and talking to each other. They'd gotten what they wanted; they'd clear out soon enough. He sat down on one of the only remaining pews and began to clean the sword.

He was so absorbed in his work that it took him a few minutes to realize that he had an audience. None of the people had left yet and all were watching him expectantly.

_Um…_ Cloud thought.

"Tell us about Her," one man said, "The Lady in the Lifestream. How did She become a goddess?"

Cloud shook his head, "Why are you expecting me to know?"

"She sent you back. You were dead, but She sent you back."

Yes, and it was actually a very raw wound so would they please be so kind as to not bring it up? He shook his head again.

"I don't know why she sent me back."

"But we do!" said the old man, "She sent you back to heal us, and to teach us! You came back knowing the secret to curing Geostigma. She must have taught you so much."

"There isn't a secret," Cloud protested, "It's just the water."

"But _you_ healed us."

_Only because you were too stupid to figure it out for yourself,_ Cloud thought. He groaned, and buried his head in his hands.

"There's _nothing_ special about me," he said, "Please just leave me alone."

"But…" it was the little boy. Cloud unwillingly looked up at him. "You saved us. You're a hero, right? Isn't that special?"

Cloud shook his head, "You could've saved yourself without any help from me. I'm not a hero. I'm just a man who wants to be left alone for a while."

The little boy frowned at him, but nodded. He grabbed his grandfather's hand and pulled him towards the door. Slowly, the rest of the group followed. Cloud didn't watch them go, instead staring at the floor. He _had_ been feeling better, but their questions and the admiration in their eyes brought back all his painful memories, and the new hurts.

Why didn't she let him stay?

"I didn't plan for this to happen," Aerith said softly when the church had finally cleared.

Cloud slowly turned. Seeing her was strange, for she looked solid and alive, but there was something about her that twisted his vision and made it hard to focus on her directly. He wondered if he would feel anything if he tried to touch her, or if his hand would pass through, like an illusion.

"I suppose that's what you get for working miracles," Cloud said softly. Once it might have been a joke, but he didn't feel very funny when he said it.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know you don't want to be put on the spot like this, but... I think it could be a good thing."

"They think I'm some kind of prophet. Or their messiah. I'm not."

"Well, you know one of the best qualifications for leadership is supposed to be not wanting it," cut in another voice, "Besides, the deity thing could be a pretty sweet deal. Think I could get in on it?"

"Zack," Aerith said sternly, but the corners of her mouth were twisting up in an unwilling smile.

"What, don't you think I'd make a good god?" Zack asked, grinning, "What about you, Spike?"

"You'd be a god of chaos," Cloud said flatly.

"Aw, see, I was angling for some kind of guardian."

"Zack," Aerith said again, a little more sharply. Zack smiled, and then mimed zipping his lips.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, "Now, as I was saying, this could be a good thing. I'm something like... an advisor to the Planet now. The other Cetra have been dead for too long to remember what the living are like. And the Planet is still sick. It's not dying anymore, but it's not in good shape, either. If you're a prophet, Cloud, they'll listen to you. You can guide them in restoring the planet. And I'll guide you."

Cloud shut his eyes briefly. He didn't _want_ to be a prophet. He didn't want to have to save the world anymore. He was tired, so old inside his twenty-three year old body. He just wanted to lay here and let everything drift away.

"Cloud, please," Aerith said, "I can't pick someone else. The world's chosen _you_. You're the one who did the miracles."

"On one condition," Cloud said.

"What do you want?" Aerith asked.

"When this is over - when the Planet is recovered," Cloud took a deep breath, "You'll let me die."

"Cloud..." it was Zack who spoke. Cloud glanced over to see Zack's face uncharacteristically serious and worried.

"When this is over, you'll let me die. You won't send me back again. I can stay with you and Zack. Promise me that, and I'll be your prophet."

Aerith looked at him for a long time with a sad, serious expression. Finally, she nodded.

"It's a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

Cloud was much later getting back than he had planned to be. It was two hours past dark by the time he returned to 7th Heaven. He thought about blaming it on motorcycle trouble – Fenrir had gotten pretty beat up when he was chasing Kadaj and probably did need more repairs than just a new paint job. It wasn't that he wouldn't tell Tifa what had happened (she'd likely find out the first time someone figured out where their prophet lived), but that he didn't want to acknowledge it just yet.

What a headache.

Tifa had opened the bar for the evening, and Cloud could hear the typical noises of the drinkers – a low murmur of conversation, clink of glasses, and occasional loud bout of drunken laughter. Cloud glanced in on the bar, relieved to see that none of the drunks had gotten belligerent. Of course, it was still early in the evening.

Tifa looked up at him and smiled. "Barret, could you watch the bar for a minute?"

The large man nodded, and stood from his stool. Tifa came to the door and ushered Cloud into the back.

"There's food in the fridge, I can heat it up for you."

"Thanks," Cloud said. He sat down at the table while Tifa grabbed a plate of some kind of pasta out of the fridge.

"Do you have any deliveries to make tomorrow?" Tifa asked.

"No."

"Good. Do you think you can take care of some errands for me? I need to take Denzel to the hospital."

Cloud surged to his feet, "Why? What's wrong?"

Had Denzel relapsed? He'd seemed fine a few hours ago, but geostigma was known for coming on notoriously fast. Maybe the water was just a treatment, not a cure. Or maybe something else was wrong. Cloud didn't know if he'd be able to handle losing Denzel after finally having found the way to save him.

"Relax, Spike," Zack said reassuringly, "Aerith's not going to let your kids die on her watch. Well, maybe in another fifty or so years, but…"

Not helping, Zack, Cloud thought, and felt Zack's presence withdraw from his mind.

Tifa shook her head, "I have to get a doctor to verify that the geostigma is completely gone before he can go back to school."

Cloud breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back down. "He's going back to school?"

"I'm going to get him enrolled at Edge Commons," Tifa said, smiling happily, "He's really excited. We actually went out and got school supplies today. If you'd stayed around for dinner, he would've told you himself. Although they are going to have to put him in a lower grade, he's missed two years."

"He'll catch up," Cloud said, "He's smart."

"You should tell him that," Tifa said, "He kept going back and forth between being really excited about going back to school and bummed that he's only one grade above Marlene."

"Didn't you tell him?"

"Of course I did, but boys would rather hear that kind of encouragement from their fathers."

Cloud still wasn't sure if he felt comfortable being described as Denzel's father. His own father had died when he was too young to really remember the man, but he knew what fathers were supposed to be like. He also knew that he didn't fit the role at all. He did care about Denzel, very much, but the boy deserved a father who intended to be around for a lifetime. Cloud was just waiting and working until he'd be allowed to die.

Cloud knew he should have been, but Denzel wasn't enough to make him want this life. That alone probably more than disqualified him for the position of father.

"Here," Tifa placed a plate of reheated food in front of him and handed him a fork.

"Thanks," he said, and took a bite of the food. Tifa sat across from him, and he didn't make eye-contact. She must've known something was going on. She always knew.

"Marlene cooked that, by the way," she smiled, "And by cooked, I mean 'she put the ingredients in the skillet and stirred them with Barret hovering nervously behind her.'"

Cloud did smile a tiny bit at that. He could see it very clearly in his mind's eye. Marlene probably would've had to stand on a chair to get to the stove and Barret would've been right behind her in case she slipped. That was what a father should be. Cloud didn't have that in him for Denzel.

"Cloud, tell me what's wrong," Tifa said softly. She reached across the table and took his hand.

"I'm just… tired," he finally said. That was true, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"Well, given how long you slept, that doesn't surprise me," Tifa said, though her voice was just a little too light and brittle. She knew it was more than that, but she wasn't pressing. She gave his hand a little squeeze then released it.

"It took a lot out of you, didn't it?" she asked.

"I... I know why she sent me back, but I'm worried about it," Cloud admitted, "Will Sephiroth ever be truly defeated? Is that why?"

Tifa grimaced, "Maybe it's just because she loves you and wants you to be able to have a life. One without having to fight all the time"

"I suppose," Cloud said, "But... All I know how to do is fight. I can't teach, or build, and I certainly can't lead people."

"Cloud... did something happen?" Tifa asked.

Cloud winced. He should tell her, but he didn't want to. Instead he seized on something else that was bothering him. It was similar, at least.

"Denzel deserves a better father than me," Cloud finally said after a long silence, "I'm probably the worst candidate for fatherhood on the entire planet."

"What does that matter?" Tifa asked sharply, "He loves you. And you _aren't_ the worst choice. Maybe not the best, but far from the worst. You love him, you provide for his needs, and you would _never_ abuse him. That puts you a long way ahead of some people out there."

Her face softened, and she reached out to touch his cheek, "You'll do just fine as his father, you know. You just have to try for him. You're not perfect, but neither am I. We'll manage."

Cloud nodded. She was right, as usual, as it seemed every woman in his life was. Tifa lowered her hand, and looked in the direction of the bar. "I should probably get back to work. Barret doesn't get nearly as many tips."

"What time is Denzel's appointment?" Cloud asked.

"Ten AM," Tifa replied.

Cloud frowned. Tifa didn't close the bar until two, and that wouldn't leave her much time to sleep.

"I can take Denzel to the hospital tomorrow, if you'd like."

Tifa looked surprised, and then her face broke into a wide smile, "Thank you. That would make my day so much easier. He's meeting with Dr. Austin, in the pediatric ward."

Cloud nodded, "Okay. I'll take him, then."

_Can sins ever be forgiven?_

"_I've never tried."_

It was all about trying, one way or another.

* * *

The visit to the hospital was uncomfortable but mercifully brief, taking less than an hour. The doctor was quick and efficient, checking Denzel for any external signs of the stigma and then taking a blood sample so quickly and efficiently Denzel barely had time to squeeze Cloud's hand. He praised Denzel for being better behaved than some of the adults had drawn blood from and let him pick what color bandage he wanted. Cloud had a sudden mental image of Hojo offering to let a test subject pick what color bandage it wanted and nearly laughed. It was very black humor, but it was still funny.

"We'll call with the results in two days, but I doubt you need to worry," the doctor said, "Not a single one of the children who were cured have shown any signs of the stigma in any test result. It's enough to make you believe in miracles."

Cloud gave him a stiff nod and left with Denzel. They got an early lunch and Denzel talked the whole time about how excited he was to be going back to school. Seeing Denzel so happy and energetic was enough to put Cloud in a good mood despite all the craziness that had been going on in the past twenty-four hours.

"So they're putting me in third grade but it turns out I won't be the only one who's being held back a year or two," Denzel said, "That boy I was talking to in the waiting room is going to be in my grade, too, he said."

"That's good. It should be easier for you to make friends."

"Uh-huh," Denzel nodded, "There'll probably be a lot of ten and eleven year olds in third grade. I'm still gonna see if they'll let me skip a grade if I can catch up, though."

Cloud nodded indulgently. He understood that Denzel was excited, but his own experiences with school had never been good, so it was a foreign concept to him.

He took Denzel back to Seventh Heaven right about the time Tifa was getting up. She smiled at him.

"Thanks so much for taking him," Tifa said, "It was nice to sleep in for a change."

"Next time, just ask me if you need me to," Cloud said.

Tifa positively beamed at him, and Cloud felt guilt twisting in his gut for keeping secrets from her. He still wasn't ready to talk about the people he knew must be waiting in the church for him, though.

He decided to walk to the church rather than drive, and told himself that it wasn't because he was procrastinating, it was because he felt the need to move after sitting in a hospital for an hour - it wasn't as bad as a lab, but it felt like it. The walk was long enough he _almost _convinced himself.

As he'd predicted, the people from the day before were in the church - along with a few more, bringing the crowd close to a score. They all looked at him expectantly as he entered, and for a moment all Cloud wanted to do was flee in panic. He'd rather fight clones, monsters, hell, even Sephiroth _himself _than speak to these people and try to be some sort of savior.

_"Don't worry, Cloud,"_ Aerith whispered, and Cloud would swear he could feel her arms wrap around his shoulders in a gentle hug, _"You can do it. I know you can, you just need to try."_

_Try_. Cloud took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Alright," he said, "First things first. This is an important place, and if you're going to be here, there are going to be a few things you need to know..."

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to start telling the story once he got going. Aerith would occasionally point out little bits and piece that he'd either forgotten about or missed completely, and he dutifully added them, although it made the story a little bit disjointed. It was nice to sit down with these people and talk about her, remembering the good times and the way she had been when they met. Not a hero, a martyr, or a goddess, but a young woman with a smile on her face, dirt under her fingernails, and a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

His followers (and that concept was still _weird_) were listening with rapt attention, focused on him except for one older woman who was studiously taking notes. It made him feel like he was a schoolteacher or something, but he did his best to ignore it and focused on the younger ones. Talking to children was much easier than talking to adults, even if there wasn't much of a difference between the children's idolizing stares and the adults'.

He fumbled when he reached the part about the forgotten city, and had to stop talking. His throat was beginning to get dry, so he cupped some of the water in his hands and drank it.

"_They need to hear this part, too_," Aerith said apologetically, "_I know it's hard, but I'm here._"

"I can't," he murmured softly, too low for the people around him to hear, "I just can't."

"_It's important, Cloud. You can do it._"

He buried his face in his hands, "I will. Just… on my own schedule. Please."

"Are you alright?" someone asked. Cloud lowered his hands and looked at the person who had spoken. It was the woman who had been taking notes.

"I'm alright," he said, "This is just difficult for me to talk about. To you she may be a goddess, but to me… she was a friend."

The old woman gave him a soft smile, tinted with sadness, and Cloud felt a sense of understanding. She must have lost people she loved, too.

"_Her grandsons miss her, but they're at peace,_" Aerith said, "_Let her know that. They had good lives, even if they ended too soon. They didn't carry many regrets with them._"

Cloud took a deep breath, "How many?"

The old woman blinked at him, "How many what?"

"How many grandchildren did you lose to geostigma?" Cloud asked.

She sat back in shock, eyes going wide and just slightly scared, "Two of them. My daughter's boys. How did you know that?"

"Aerith told me," Cloud said, "To tell you that they miss you –"

" – _and the rest of their family –_ "

"And the rest of their family, but they're at peace. They had…" Cloud took a deep breath, "She tells me they had good lives, even if they were too short. They didn't take a lot of regrets with them. They should be able to let go soon."

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him, and her voice trembled when she spoke, "Thank you."

The old man, who had been sitting next to her, put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze. Cloud noticed that they had matching rings. Obviously they were a married couple, then. There was a similar look on his face.

There was so much emotion in their faces that Cloud didn't know what to think. Had he really just helped them, or was it rubbing salt in the wound? And perhaps more worryingly, was everyone going to be asking him about their dead friends and family now? Maybe it would just be better not to know. Especially for geostigma's victims, how reassuring could it be? They'd died painful deaths – most of them too young by decades. He didn't think there was much comfort to be had in telling people that they'd died without experiencing most of what life had to offer.

Cloud shook his head to clear it, and got to his feet. This was too much.

"I'm sorry," he said, "But this is all I can talk about for today. I'll tell you more if you come back tomorrow."

He was relieved when no one protested, even though they were slow about leaving the church. They clearly hoped he'd change his mind. He didn't make eye contact or say anything until the last one had left and shut the door after him.

"Please don't make me do that again," he said softly as Aerith's form appeared by the water, "Telling them about you wasn't so bad, but..."

Aerith shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, "They were there, and they asked me to pass the message on. After all, now that their grandmother knows it, the message will definitely get to the rest of their family."

Cloud nodded, "I understand. I just really don't want to do it again."

"You did good, Spike," Zack said encouragingly, "You kind of choked in the homestretch, but not bad for a first try."

He ruffled Cloud's hair, but it felt more like a strong breeze than a hand. It made his heart ache at how familiar it was, but it wouldn't be the same ever again.

"You really are doing well," Aerith said, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand – her touch was more substantial than Zack's, "I know this is difficult, but you're off to a really good start."

"This is going to take a long time, isn't it?"

"Probably," Aerith said.

Cloud sighed. How long before he could be done?

She frowned at him, and suddenly she had her finger in his face and was giving him a fierce look, "That's enough moping! We made a deal, and I'll keep it, but stop thinking that you have to be miserable just because Zack and I are dead and you aren't. You aren't cut off from us, you've still got a piece of Zack in you, and we're here for you."

"She's right, you know," Zack said, "If this job is going to take a lifetime – and it might – then you should do your best to enjoy the life. We won't fault you for raising your kid while you do the prophet thing."

Cloud's discomfort must have shown on his face, because Aerith sighed dramatically at him.

"What _are_ we going to do with you?" Aerith asked, shaking her head fondly, "You're allowed to have a life, Cloud. We're not going to feel betrayed if you enjoy it on occasion."

"What she said," Zack agreed, "So pull that stick out of your ass and relax a little."

"I've tried," Cloud deadpanned, "It grows right back."

Zack snorted, "Well, at least you acknowledge the stick's existence."

"Is there anything else you need me to do?" Cloud asked Aerith.

She shook her head, "Not right now. Just go home and spend some time with your family. And give Marlene a hug from me."

Cloud nodded and turned to go. He hesitated at the door and looked back. Zack and Aerith were still there, watching him. Zack had his arm around Aerith's waist and Aerith was leaning her head against Zack's shoulder. They made such a pretty couple. Cloud wondered where his place would be when he was finally allowed to stay with them. Between them sounded nice, but he didn't want to separate them. But if he was on one side or the other, he wouldn't be able to be close to both of them.

He supposed it didn't really matter, as long as there was a place for him.


End file.
